


A Single Moment

by Ravensandstars



Category: The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Melancholy, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravensandstars/pseuds/Ravensandstars
Summary: A moment between two men who deserved a millennium.





	A Single Moment

           Music is blasting from the old speakers of an old car, but the car’s not moving.  It’s not even on.

           Lester is sitting shotgun, staring at the man in the driver’s seat, like if he looks away for even a second, he’ll disappear to nothingness. 

           “Why did they bring you back, Hyacinthus?”

           The question hangs in the air, like a rising tide threatening to drown them both.  Hyacinthus turns to face Lester.  His eyes are violet as a sunset, skin a sepia sky. 

           Lester could lose himself in that sky forever, like Apollo did millennia ago.

           “You know why, my dearest sun,” Hyacinthus replies.  His voice is infinitely gentle, as though he is afraid to shatter the moment between them, perhaps their last moment together before it all begins.

           Their final conversation, final touch, final kiss. 

           Lester wants to scream at the world for it’s unfairness, to lash out at Zeus for tormenting him like this. 

           Wasn’t Jason’s death enough of a lesson. 

           The blood rushes between Lester’s ears as he reaches out a hand, touches the spartan prince’s face, feeling warm skin after all these years.

           “Apollo.”  The word sounds like a blessing from his lips. 

           _It’s not right_ Lester thinks.  _He should be surrounded by beauty, by nature, by those rolling Spartan hills._

           The rolling hills of Sparta are long gone.

           Instead of grass they sit on worn leather, a car’s hood their substitute for tree shade.  It’s wrong and perfect all at the same time.

            Hyacinthus’ lips taste like honey even after millennia, and Apollo is home. 

 

 


End file.
